


King Of Pain

by XSayuriX



Series: Amaranthine [4]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 14:14:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20098513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XSayuriX/pseuds/XSayuriX
Summary: Malcolm and Trip are on a little vacation in San Fran and Trip spends a night out while Malcolm has a bit of flashbacks.





	King Of Pain

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hanna_Tucker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hanna_Tucker/gifts).

> Another little one shot of my favorite ship Treed (don't question that name pls XD), again pretty far in the future. About 5 years into Amaranthine?  
In fact, I was inspired by Hanna_Tucker's last comment on a one shot since she keeps me motivated testing my limits on new fields of writing (huge thanks!), by being kicked in my leg by a horse today which made me think of all the possible ways to feel pain and hence write about it AND by the song "King Of Pain" written by Sting and performed by The Police. I have always been into what Sting had to say in his songs hence the inspiration on that aspect!  
I really hope you enjoy this little piece, I really have trouble keeping the important key moments I keep mentioning not too obvious, they're supposed to stay mostly a secret until they happen in Amaranthine, actually...

It was dark by now, the sun had set and the rooms were only lit by a dim, filthy light coming from outside, a small white spot in the pitch-black night sky. Malcolm wasn’t too surprised that Trip hadn’t arrived yet – he probably still enjoyed his night out with some of the blokes he had met during their evening show two days ago. He better did enjoy it.  
However, Malcolm couldn’t sleep without his lover, not lately which was rather surprising since he never used to have trouble falling asleep without Trip. Something had changed during the past days, something had put him into a dark place and he didn’t feel safe anymore whenever Trip wasn’t there to chase the demons away that kept haunting Malcolm, sucking on his soul every living minute.

The Brit sauntered through the small room that was supposed to be a living room, taking out a flashlight which, to be frank, wasn’t the brightest anymore. He started to lighten the area around him, noticing the pictures and photographs on the shelf. Even though the two men had just started to unpack their personal things – it was only a test after all, this was never supposed to decide over any changes concerning their current home – Malcolm had completely forgotten they had decided to place some memories around the house.

He noticed the remarkable variety of photos and what they showed, the variety of ages and people accompanying them and, apparently, although Malcolm absolutely despised the idea of being photographed, there were a lot more photos of him and his past than there were of Trip. Sure, some featured the whole Tucker clan, but the majority showed young Malcolm in his painfully proud military uniform or Malcolm and Madeline at his graduation or Malcolm not at all smiling in his Starfleet uniform. They all had one thing in common: He didn’t smile in any single one of them. There were no photos of him with a smile, not a single one.

“How on Earth…? I really am just some sad existence, huh…” The Brit pulled a wry half-smile before noticing the ache in his chest. There was no happiness for the time being, not since they had come here. Or, not since he was aboard Enterprise? That surely must be a lie, he wasn’t just pretending to be happy, was he? Well, for instance, when he was a teenager he was quite good at pretending so that nobody ever noticed. Nobody but poor little Madeline…

There it was again, the painful memory, flashbacks of the old days when he was still living with his parents, pretending to be a happy boy, pretending to love the dreams his father had. Oh, how screwed up he was, oh, what bad things he had done…And only Madeline noticed, only Madeline knew. She knew all along…  
He remembered her smile under the tears when she looked him in the eyes, torn between telling Mom and Dad and keeping his secret safe, torn between letting him destroy himself or letting her father destroy him even more. She had just been a girl, 12, 13 years old. She should have never seen him. But he was the one bearing all the pain in his heart, even back then he used to seal his feelings, pretended to be exactly the ideal son his father needed. God, how he suffered.

The pain in his chest grew the more the flashbacks hit Malcolm. He couldn’t stop all the images flashing through his mind, blinding his sight. He wasn’t capable of pushing them away, it had been too long.

And then there was April 36’, that one awful day that destroyed everything. The day that never existed. The day that nobody spoke about. The day he got so lost, so scared, yet so numb. The day his father broke his heart entirely, leaving him so torn and so insecure that he couldn’t help but just break the chains. Break them. But years later for the first time…  
April 36’, again and again, he saw the images pass by as he felt his knees go weak. They were about to give in, he just knew. But he let it happen. This was it, right? This was it. He couldn’t hold it in, he couldn’t lock it away any longer.

The flashbacks grew and grew, becoming a subconscious stream of blurry, speeding images forcing him to hold onto the shelf in order to not just drop to the floor in his daze. The voices started screaming into his ears, he couldn’t understand a single word being said but he knew exactly which memories they must belong to.

The recovery. He was in bed, Trip by his side, trying so hard to make him laugh. But how could he if he felt like not a single limb would be under his control? How could he if he didn’t even know how to stop the pain his body caused literally all the time? Most smiles he had given his lover were nothing but fake, pretending to be happy and proud by how far he had gotten in that moment. Just so Trip would stop and he could let the pain take over again. No matter how much he loved Trip, there was no way he could understand and bear all the pain and he wouldn’t ever let him – even if it meant lying and pretending once in a while.

The war. Gods, how that war had messed with his mind. Not only the fear to lose Trip and Charlie – he never was scared of dying, he was only scared to be left alone without the only two people he really actually loved with all of his heart. The constant fear and anger had at some point taken over and he went berserk out there, losing his mind, becoming a killing machine. That was, in fact, why he barely had memory of it. But the flashing pictures and the distorted noise still made him tremble and urge to scream.  
All the nights he hadn’t slept at all because he was too scared that, despite spending every waking moment haunted by those pictures, he’d also dream of it. Once he had passed out due to the lack of sleep, he noticed that his dreams were, in fact, haunted by the memories, forcing him to wake up screaming and shaking, terrified, reviving those days again and again and again.

Only now Malcolm noticed that he had dropped to the floor, his hand clutched to his painfully cramped chest, nearly choking on the tears that were streaming down his face, dropping to the floor. His sore limbs were aching since all his muscles were completely tense, his whole body shaking as if he was touched by an electric eel, his breath out of control.

“Mal…? Darling, hey, what’s wrong?!” Trip’s voice sounded so far away as if Malcolm were caged under a bell jar. The pain was absolutely overwhelming he wasn’t even sure if he just imagined his lover entering the room, being one of those numerous memories that had just filled the room with pitch-black terror.  
As soon as Malcolm felt his partner’s strong arms around his hips holding him close, pushing his own trembling body to his lover’s broad chest, he knew this was real. He was going to be safe. He was going to be okay. At least for the rest of the time being.  
“Mal…It’s gonna be alright, you’re gonna be alright…I’ve got you…”

“Trip…” There was not much more that the Brit murmured, but he said it over and over again as if this name was a mantra which could protect him from all the dark that was intoxicating his mind and hurting his heart. Indeed, it was the name of the only one who could ever chase the demons away for a while, taking care of him, protecting him from himself, if it had to be that way. Maybe he was the king of pain but there was still a part of him that was healing, a small part that tried to grow so he was going to do just fine again. If only it was stronger already…  
_Guess I’ve got to be the King of Pain for a little longer…_


End file.
